


Interview with a Dhampir

by MeiHwa



Category: Anne Rice - Fandom, Interview With the Vampire (1994), Original Work, TFTDC
Genre: Dhampir, Original Character(s), Vampire Hunters, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27991824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeiHwa/pseuds/MeiHwa
Summary: Delve into the Life of a Dhampir named Bryce Melrose and follow along on his journey through hunts, trails and adventures.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. 1st Interview

"This is Carmen Knight, bringing to you a story live from Chicago. Honoring Anne Rice, this is Interview with a Dhampire." 

"Hello Carmen. How did you get my number again? I'd love to Scype you to see the face that matches your lovely voice but that is a bit of an occupational hazard if you know whae I mean."

"A local I approached for an interview handed me your card, saying, 'Call him. He likes to hear himself talk'."

A laugh echoed over the phone showing his good humor. "So true! You might find it's not much of an interview and more of a retelling. I don't need much prompting. I can usually tell whae people want to know next."

"As I am use to people needing only a touch of prompting to spill everything," She laughed in return. "Let us begin with something simple. Where were you born?"

"I was born in a whore's bed. Not to say my mother was a loose woman, but she  _ was _ a man's mistress. A one man woman, my mother, and that is why she gave me to the residents of the abbey who dispatched my father. Couldn't attract a patron with a wailing brat around. Hence why I grew up in Melrose Abbey."

"Melrose Abbey in Scotland?"

"Yeah. St Mary's Abbey, is a monastery in Melrose, Roxburghshire, in the Scottish Borders. It was dedicated to a few other saints before Mary in slightly different locations. The dedication changed to Mary a few years after I was born. The building is constructed in the form of St. John's cross, a nice Gothic style of architecture. Very good for repelling supernatural creatures."

"So you were raised without a mother to care for you. What about your father?"

"Dead. Dead before I ever had a chance to discredit his station. Impeccable timing." A soft popping fizz of a bottle opener interrupted Bryce's voice. "Slainte! To my fathers timely death, or as my mother once called it an untimely death because she was impregnated before his final demise. Father was a Father before he was a father. A chaplin was his specific title, though he was far from a pious man. He had no respect for his holy order, far too many unholy pursuits, and - especially damning - so addicted to hunting they used to call him by the infamous title of "Hundeprest," or the dog-priest. He was a contemptible wanker." Liquid made a quick sloshing noise that indicated Bryce tipped back his bottle.

"Where was I? Oh yes, father's death. They found him dead outside of the abbey when one of his hunting dogs came back alone. I'm not sure of how he died since no one saw what took the blighter down. Some say they thought it was some wild animal while others swear it was some devil whae killed him. With what I know now, I say the devil did it to himself by his actions in life. He was the start and end of his own line. If it was some other devil that brought him over, they never showed their ravaged faces or mentioned ever making him. Not that I've ever run into...or killed. 

Well, his first death wasn't enough to keep him down. Since the walls of the abbey held him back by their collective holiness, the village was often interrupted from their nightly sleep by Hundeprest. Most of his focus was on my mother. She was hounded by the hound! Most monsters like him go after kin first."

"You called your father and his possible killer devil... monster. Just to clarify for the listeners, what sort of monster was he?"

"A Vampire. I'd be dust now if he wasn't turned when he impregnated my mother." The sound of a lighter being struck was easy to hear. Those with exceptional hearing could even catch the clove tobacco igniting and his inhale. The rest could hear his long exhale like a sigh. "She didn't know he was dead, or undead, until the next day. One of the friars had come down to the village to pass on the news. Mother anxiously entreated those friars of the abbey to believe the ungodly man had come back from the dead. It went on for a few days before her anxiety became undeniable. One of the visiting friars overlooked her loose virtue, as well as accepted her frequent monetary donations, and decided to aid the earnest and deserving woman be rid of the chaplain that haunted her at night. Couldn't have a man with a wailing monster around either. Might scare off a new patron."

"So the friar took up her cause. How noble and brave of him to take on a vampire alone."

Laugher came through loud and clear. "Oh no. He wasn't an idiot. He went back to the abbey and convinced a fellow friar and 2 others to help." Holding in his laughter long enough for a deep drag, Bryce exhaled, still chuckling. "They went to the cemetery armed heavily and waited for father to rise. Half the night, shivering in the cold, the group waited with bold courage of each other's company. But father never rose and they began to doubt. Long after midnight, the two men and the other friar grew cold and sought out a warm home to warm themselves, leaving the original brave friar by himself to watch.

Of course that is when the monster rose. Knowing the friar was alone gave the creature confidence in a kill. He was still a hunter after all. The friar was made of sterner stuff. It didn't take him long to overcome the instinctive terror humans have upon such a sight. He met his attacker head on with an ax. Split the wanker's sternum and making the monster wail. He kept swinging too! Drove father back to his crypt, swinging away with that ax to insure a speedy return. The friar watched the crypt suck its occupant back inside and close up like nothing had disturbed the resting place." Rattling of metal and bullets could be heard on the line. The thought of a fight brought out the hunter in him. A hunter's motto is 'always be prepared'. "When the other three returned to be told the tale, all of them returned to his gravesite and dug him up even as the sun rose. Opening the crypt revealed the fresh bloody wound the friar inflicted. They took the corpse out of the cemetery and burned him, scattering the ashes to the wind. Then everything went back to normal."

"Normal?" For the first time, Carmen was at a loss for words. How did one live normally after experiencing what was once impossible? Humans could adapt, true, but to ignore it ever happening? "Even your mother? Didn't her pregnancy scare off patron possibilities?

"She carried me very high and no one could tell she was pregnant. Not even mother. I once asked her how could she  _ not _ tell and she told me even her monthlies came." Clicks of magazines being loaded and ejected crossed over on the line. "That was my doing. Food gave me little interest even in the womb. One night, no more than 5 months in, I simply came out. Surprised the hell out of her." Bryce chuckled again, "quite literally."

"You were a premie?" Carmen said with that sound of seeing a cute something in her voice that you are sure to hear an 'awee' follow. "How big were you?"

"In those days, I was a wee barn no more than a pound. Since I wasn't dead, the abbey residents took me in along with another large donation to make me disappear. That's where my life really began." Bryce paused and the sound of fabric moving was right next to the phone's speaker. "Carmen, it was nice talking to you but duty calls. Call me back tomorrow and we can talk again." A weak chuckle came out of him. "If I'm alive of course."

The line went dead and Carmen wrapped up the best she could. She quickly looked at his card, realizing she had introduced herself but not him. A smile tipped her lips up. "We thank our guest Dhampire for sharing part of his beginnings. Tune in again, same time tomorrow, to hear more of this fascinating tale."


	2. 2nd Interveiw

"Hello, Carmen Knight calling for Bryce Melrose. Have I reached said party?" The voice wasn't the same swarthy Slovak accent as his first caller. 

Bryce flipped his steak over and pressed it to see if he'd cooked it just enough. "Yea, lassie. This is Bryce." Before he could get out a question of his own, she went on with business like speed.

"Hold please."

"Callin' me just to put me on hold," he mumbled with the phone tucked against his ear. He pressed hard on the steak and made a great sizzling noise that almost drowned out the stray cat's continuous caterwauling. 

As Cat pestered him with incessant meowing, Carmen came on the line and immediately asked with some surprise. "Do you own a cat or are you cooking one?"

"Na," Bryce answered and pulled his steak off the grill. Slicing off a chunk of meat to cut it up into little bites, he explained. "It's a stray. Lives aroun' the neighborhood." The plate of bites was set before the stray then Bryce took up his own spot at his picnic table. Only a few candles were lit to keep the bugs away, clueing many of his neighbors that he could care less that it was too late for a picnic. "If ya don't mind waiting a few minutes for me ta eat, we can start the interview. I ne'er eat much." The amount of meat left after he fed the cat was no more than four or five mouthfuls. One made it into his mouth right then. "I'll be done by the time you called yesterday. "

"Like me, you have other means of nutrition, yes?" This Carmen woman was very intuitive Bryce was willing to bet. It's what made her a great interviewer. Or was she an interrogator? Her next question brought that to mind. "Do you feed it?"

"Yeah, I don't eat just food." Pausing in his chewing, Bryce looked down at the furry creature as he held onto the phone with his shoulder pressed up to his ear. "But Cat? Yeah I toss it some scraps now and then," he answered without really lying. He never bought those bags of cat food so he didn't consider himself a cat owner.

"Then you own a cat." Carmen said, her smug tone clear over the line. "Feed a cat and its your's. Plus cats can have more than one owner so you are probably not the only owner. It is why so many cats have a few pets to insure their survival."

"Hear that cat?" Bryce said down to the kitty who meowed back like she understood. "Carmen says I'm yer pet." Popping the last bit in his mouth he leaned back with a sigh and folded his hands behind his head to look up at the sky. He liked the sound of her chuckling on the other end of the phone. Placing the phone on the picnic table, he set it to speakerphone. There was no way he would be holding it to his ear for an hour. "Let's get this show on the road. No time like the present." 

"This is Carmen Knight, continuing a story live from Chicago. Honoring Anne Rice, this is Interview with a Dhampire." Carmen's sure voice told Bryce the interview had restarted. "Good to reach you again, Mr. Dhampire."

"Good to be alive, Carmen. "

"Yesterday, we delved into your creation. Let's start off today's talk with your description of early childhood. Am I to understand correctly that, even though it was centuries ago, you remember it well?"

"Yes! Back to the 12th century and down to my first diaper." Bryce answered with mirth that could easily be taken as a sarcastic remark, but he was serious. "It's all quite disturbing to have such a clear memory at times, but you grow use to what defines your thoughts. The names might blur in my mind, but the faces... I never forget a face."

"Is that why you have left the friars that destroyed your father unnamed? When you told of his destruction, you mentioned no names."

"Aha! That is more because I was told the tale secondhand. I vouch for only things I've experienced personally. The friar that told me the story, raised me. It was fear of what I was that kept them from naming my father's killers. My foster Father's name was Bernard. Love and forgiveness were things he taught me. Perhaps to keep me from killing them all once I was strong enough. Leaving out individual names kept the story a story instead of a vendetta. Even a Dhampir in diapers can kill."

"As a premie your diapers must have been quite small." Carmen commented, effectively lightening his mood.

"Little rags they were. Soft as cheesecloth. They just wrapped me and tied me up. I didna like it." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and freed one. "The smell of everything was bad enough back then. Add in being trapped in your own filth, well," Bryce inhaled deeply of the clove smoke trying to quell the memory of the stench. "I was lucky to be what I was. Couldn't have lasted a day otherwise. It surprised the monks in a way. There was always the possibility I was a normal child just born too early."

There was an event that made them think otherwise and Carmen was sharp enough to latch on to that insinuation. "What was the defining moment that changed their minds."

A long chuckling exhale escaped him. "I killed a rat my second day when he tried to eat me and my diaper." 

"So there was no joke in your mentioning a baby Dhampir can kill and at such a young age, barely out of your mother's womb."

"I was hungry! Hungrier than the rat at any rate. There are those that try and quell their natural instincts and cravings. I have never needed to. Once Friar Bernard saw me clutching the furry beast like a stuffed toy, he had no denial of what I was. He said 'well we won't have to worry about the rats getting you,' and changed my diaper."

"Were there other signs of your differences? " Carmen asked through the phone. Bryce took a deep inhale of his cigarette as he thought back, the burning ember tip loud in his ears. It made his look around for the cat since he didn't hear it eating, purring or cleaning itself. Usually Cat's activities drowned out and of his own. But there it was contently laying back and watching him. 

"I'm not big on wha' normal babies do but I was crawling within a month and walking at 6 months. Tha' wasna normal, I know, but I growing so fast it hurt. I didna complain though. No one to complain to really, so why bother. The times Bernard would check on me, I was too interested in his talking and careful tending. He tried to anticipate my growing pains, I suppose. Rubbed all sorts of herbs and ointments on my limbs. Since I was such a quiet baby, they allowed me to stay in the chapel during prayers and mass. Tha was a good part of the day, in more than one sense of the word. The chanting and singing helped ease the pains, helped me sleep and taught me languages. Just propped me up in a corner. I was very methodical in learning my motor skills. You know how they say exercise until its hurts? I already hurt, so I would move until it stopped hurting. I would push, pull and squeeze what was given to me."

"Where there and other children in the monastery?"

There were a few boys tha were sent to the abbey with their schooling paid but none as young as me. Still, young males came and went but I stayed, learned and trained in the ways of the cloth. Being what I was, Friar Bernard gave me other training as well. How to deal with my cravings in less evident ways. How to defend myself without harming others. Many games were developed in the abbey to help me learn as well as hide what I was learning. One particular game was very close to darts. It even took off in the local villages. Everyone was carvings out thin needles of wood about 6 inches long and setting up targets to throw them at. I had the best aim in the area. Bernard taught me prudence and I knew the satisfaction of knowing I was the best without gloating over others. That alone I recognized as being different than the other children. But I never have been able to understand. I never had the childish complaints or cares of a child. I saw them off and on throughout my life but I still have no clue why they do what they do."

"You say you had no understanding of children. Is that because you have none of your own? Have you never married?"

"I was a priest!" chuckled Bryce. "Well, at first a Friar, but it all boiled down to the one title eventually. I stayed in the Brotherhood through many of its transitions. Father to many but none of my own kin. Contrary to popular speculation, not all priests were sneaking off to convents and breaking their vows. I took my vows quite seriously for hundreds of years. I'm actually best known as being Priest."

"You're... The Priest? The highest ranking hunter... ever?"

Bryce chuckled knowing he finally surprised her. "Na lassie. Not ever. I only keep that rank because my real competition retired. I'm older and ahead, it's not really possible for these new hunters to catch up to my overall numbers. Plus there are those that are older than me that are, shall we say, not registered hunters. I am far from the highest ranking ever."

She seemed to accept his modesty and move on. "You said you were a priest. They raised you, cared for you and trained you in their ways so you took up their occupation as your own. What was the changing factor to make you leave the Brotherhood?"

He should have expected the question. In a way he had, but in more of a form of dread than expectation. The clove cigarette in his hand was rolled between his fingers for a few seconds before he spoke. "I never left. I was excommunicated, suspended from my holy order, and rendered toleratus. More than once, I might add. It adjusts with each change of command. Once they learn of my existence, they feel the need to make an example of me. I have not lost my faith, though. It has faltered on occasion and, in my profession, that can be deadly. I know my faith in God protects me and I keep that knowledge close and alive." Bryce tried to clear up the misconception that most people had. "Many religions hold excommunication as a form of punishment to correct your ways. You are banned from certain aspects of your faith but not necessarily the whole religion." It was a sore point with Bryce. Angrily, he snubbed out his finished cigarette. "They allow me to bless things, but not act solely as a priest. I canna hear confessions and absolve those repentant souls. I canna serve mass at all. I canna do the nice things. No! But they grant me permission to exorcise evil in any means needed. The only reason they say I can bless things is to perform exorcisms and kill the beasties they like to deny exist. I still get calls from the Vatican to fix little discrepancies. It's interesting tha they donna consider killing a vampire a sin since they are already dead. Strange how people can reinterpret the 6th commandment. They came down hard for I killing that pope for them. That was a while back, but he was still a vampire. When John Paul revised the excommunicate-able offences to include 'a physical attack on the pope' I was really put on the naughty list. The Vatican keeps better records than the Hunter's Guild and tha saying a lot." He put another clove stick to his lips and, as calmly as possible, lit his lighter. A deep inhale and exhale to sooth his irritation with his current circumstances helped a little. "They still call me Priest though. A small consolation. I have lost the title Father somehow. Sometimes I account that to my age and their refusal to acknowledge it."

"The Church has taken away part of your identity without firing you. Keeping you onboard but in the shadows, they are able to deny your presence until it suits them." She hit the nail on the head making Bryce wince privately. "If the offered you a full penance and allowed you to take up your position as it was originally, would you?"

Bryce smiled to himself. The tone he used said more about his forgiveness of wrongs against him than his words. "Na. It's been 200 years since they let me be a real priest. I like women too much now." Taking a thoughtful puff, he blew a smoke ring towards the trees. "Wouldn't mind being a catholic deacon though. I could serve mass again and still be interested in women. Deacons can do everything but consecrate the hosts. Since I am allowed to fulfill blessing, I could be satisfied with tha."

"What stops you from performing as a priest?"

That was a question he'd been asked many times. A ready answer was available. "Rules are what keeps the chaos at bay. You may not like the rules or you make break some of the rules, but most people know the rules. No matter how many times the rules change, they are still there in an attempt to keep us in check. I like to think they adapt with the times fairly well. I've seen how much change has happened and am satisfied that, with time, the rules I dislike will change in my favor. That's why I tell people to vote. It might look like you are doing nothing, but there are so many that have never had a say. If you have a chance to voice your opinion, take it."

Carmen circled back around to the subject she broached before his distraction. "Let's go back to my questions of children and marriage. Since you have chosen to accept a life outside of the Brotherhood, have you considered a family life?"

"Considered it?" Bryce asked with both brows lifted. "I'm approaching a thousand years. Of course I've considered it. Squelched it within minutes of pondering it. Hunters need as few liabilities as possible. Less to worry about on a hunt. Worrying about your own life is more than enough distraction. A wife? Kids? Na, lassie. They aren't for me." Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, he glanced down at the cat. "I can't even call a cat that has hung around my house for 10 years mine. Who would feed it if I didn't come back from a hunt? Who would give a shit if it didn't show up one day? Who would look for it if it ended up in a ditch somewhere dying?"

"Are you talking about your cat or yourself?" 

"It applies to both doesn't it?" He blew out a long stream of smoke, squinting through the haze. "It would take a maximum of 3 days to determine my death. The first day would make a few, like yourself and the guild, to wonder at my lack of contact. The hunter kind enough to give you my card is in an agreement with me to make contact once daily. I do the same for him, although there are more to care for his loss. He has family; I have him.

The second day would cause a search of bounties I have applied for and not turned in. No need to disturb a deep hunt but necessary to locate where I might be, just in case. If I didn't contact a soul the second day I would be considered missing.

By the third day, someone would be on my last trail. Either personally or by proxy, my close associate would find me, dead or alive. God help me, I hope it would be dead or I would never live down having Kiddo save me. He calls me Old Man as it is. Probably tell me it was time to retire like him if he saved me."

Carmen laughed lightly at his joke, making him smile. She asked, "So you have people to mourn your passing but no one close enough to endanger them or yourself."

"Exactly right lassie."

"I would miss our talks and I'm sure our listeners would miss the broadcasts." He could tell from Carmen’s change in tone she was switching to wrap up the interview for the time being. "Next time, we will go over what happened in your past to cause your fear of liabilities. This has been Carmen Knight, bringing you an interview with the Dhampir Priest. Tune in tomorrow for our continuing story."


End file.
